


Blade of Hope

by DruidX



Series: The Genderless!HoK (TES IV: Oblivion) [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fix-It, Gen, Light Angst, Light the Dragonfires, Martin Septim is not Dragonborn, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruidX/pseuds/DruidX
Summary: What happens when the Amulet of Kings will not stay around Martin's neck? Who else could be the one to relight the Drafonfires?A sideways one-shot exploring what might happen if Martin was not a Dragonborn, but someone else close to him is.
Series: The Genderless!HoK (TES IV: Oblivion) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901968
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one-shot side-step from most of the established Genderless!HoK universe, and is basically a self-indulgent Martin-lives-fix-it.  
> I'd seen some stuff floating around Tumblr about "What would happen if Martin wasn't Uriel's heir?", how would everyone react, etc, and I thought "that could be fun to write".  
> Then, in the process of mulling it through, realised I'd set it up perfectly (though unintentionally) for Rowan to be Uriel's child instead (partly because of the prophetic dreams). And then I figured out I could make it a fix-it, kinda. Jauffre and Baurus are still dead (at some point I will write about that), but Martin lives -- and isn't that the important thing here?

There was a brilliant flash, forcing me to close my eyes.  
When I opened them again, I found myself back in Mundus, crouched in front of the fire at Cloud Ruler Temple. I stood, my limbs shaking, dizzy from the change in plane.  
"Sire!" I heard Roliand say and turned to see Martin look over from where he had no doubt been pacing.  
"You've found a way back!" he cried, quick steps bringing him to my side. "Does this mean..."  
"Yes," I said. "Mankar Camoran is dead."   
He leaned into me, and I cradled the back of his skull, bringing our foreheads together.   
"Didn't I tell you," I said, "I'll always come back? To the ends of Nirn, through Oblivion and Aetherius, I'll always return to you, my Emperor. Always."  
He drew back, placing a kiss on my messy, sweaty brow. His eyes glittered with unshed tears, but his smile was like the sun, bright and hopeful.  
"Your faithfulness astounds and humbles me every time, my Hero." Martin embraced me fully this time, so tight and encompassing for a moment it drove the horrors of the Crisis away, and I returned it with as much fervour. With a final kiss to his cheek, he pulled back.  
"You defeated him, that swine. Then that means you have it... You have the Amulet of Kings?"  
I nodded. My hands shook as I unlooped the necklace from my belt, where I'd placed it for safekeeping as Paradise crumbled.  
"Here... It's yours, my Emperor. It belongs to you." I held the glittering red jewel out to him. His hands shook just as much as he took it.  
"Belongs to me? The Amulet of Kings..." He turned slightly, holding it up to the light as though admiring it, but there was fear on his face. "So you and Jauffre have said. If that is true... If Lord Uriel really was my father, then I should be able to wear it." He lowered it from the light and looked at me. "Only those of the Septim blood can wear the Amulet of Kings."  
"Yes, Sire. Please. Put it on. Claim your birthright." I gave him an encouraging smile.  
"Yes, of course," Martin said, still staring at the amulet. "What am I waiting for? After all," he murmured now, almost to himself, "this is my destiny. No man can deny his destiny."

The room was silent. Tension filled the air, as though the very universe held her breath. The Blades attention was riveted to us both. I watched, biting my lip, as Martin reached up and fastened the amulet around his neck. For a single second, it hung glorious and glimmering around his neck. Then, with a tiny snap, the latch unfastened, the chain slithering down his chest.  
I caught it before I even knew what I was doing. We stared at each other in horror for a moment.  
"You... Your hands weren't steady. You must not have secured it correctly," I said. "Here, let me just-" I moved around behind him, fastening the latch again. I held it there, testing it was locked before letting it go. Before my eyes, the latch opened on its own, the chain slipping apart. This time it was Martin who caught it.  
He turned to face me, paler than a starved vampire.  
"Then I- I am not-" With wide-eyes, his voice failed. I couldn't work out if it was dread or relief I saw in his expression.  
"No... No, no. You must- Jauffre said-"  
"Your Maj- I mean, Brother- sir, xir..." I looked over at Captain Steffan. He seemed as bewildered as I felt. "Does this mean it has all been for naught?"  
"No," I said firmly, trying to rally my racing thoughts. "No, Mankar Cameron is dead, and the Amulet is out of enemy hands. That has to count for something." I looked back at Martin. "It counts for something, right? Martin?" I heard my voice grow pitchy and desperate.  
His eyes were distant, his lips moving in some silent litany. His fingers were white where he gripped the Amulet. I turned back to grasp him by the shoulders.  
"Marty, breath," I said, fighting to keep my own breathing steady, to hold back the tears. "Please, Nine help me. Don't pass out. I need you. I don't care if you're not the Dragonborn Prince, I can't do this alone. You promised, remember? We're in this together. The fate of Tamriel is still in our hands. Please!" My voice broke. "Marty, Akatosh, help me!"  
Martin blinked once and looked at me. He was still pale, the red jewel welling like blood between his clenched fingers, but there was something new in his gaze. It had become less the stare of a man seeing distant, untold horrors, and instead carried the distance of thought.  
"Tell me again what Lord Uriel said to you before he died?" he asked, his voice as still as a moonless night.  
"I- What?" I let go of him, almost stumbling backwards. "Marty, that was nearly a year ago!" I pressed my hands to my face so hard I saw stars. "I can't remember!"  
His warm, calloused hands looped around mine, prying them gently away from my face. He cupped my cheek, brushing away tears I hadn't noticed I was crying.  
"You can," Martin said. I blinked. What was wrong with him? He suddenly seemed filled with an ineffable calmness, his eyes the clear blue of a mountain stream. I started to shake my head, but he leant forward, and whispered, "Remember."  
I sniffed. "He said a lot of things. That he knew my face from his dreams... Something about beholding the sun in my face, and Akatosh's bright glory..." I let my memories of that day filter through my mind, then clarity filled me like the chime of a bell. "Oh! He said 'Remember me, and remember my words: this burden is now yours alone. You hold the future in your hands'. I thought he was talking about the Amulet. Why does this matter?"  
I barely noticed the Blades, still standing around us, watching events unfold with befitting anxiety. My attention was solely on the Priest in front of me.  
"At any point, did you try the Amulet on?" Martin asked.  
"Of course not. What was the point? I knew the stories, I knew it wouldn't stay around my neck."  
Martin tilted his head, lifting his chin. "Put it on." 

I stared down at his outstretched hands, to where he held the Amulet of Kings, the Dragonborn's birthright, towards me. Every fibre in my being screamed 'no!'.  
"It's not mine," I said, voice wavering.  
Martin looked at me with something like pity in his gaze, then nodded.  
"Very well. Captain Steffan," Martin turned to the Blade. "Would you try the Amulet on?"  
"I'm not sure if-" he began, then his demeanour changed. Martin had his back to me, but I suspected he'd pulled a face. "Of course, sir..." Steffan put the Amulet on, and like Martin, it slipped off.  
"Jena," Martin called, "how about you?" Again, it slid from her neck. And on it went until every Blade had failed to keep it in place.  
Martin turned back to me.  
"Please," he said, his voice soft and sweet, more like the Martin I knew. His eyebrows drew together, and he regarded me with a solemn pleading expression.  
I took a breath. Why did every part of me rebel against the idea of putting the Amulet on? Even when I carried it from the Imperial sewers to Weynon Priory, I hadn't been tempted. When I camped for the night, I'd taken it out. Looked it over, admired it... Then tucked it away. I gazed at the jewel again now, the vibrant crimson large in my vision, occluding everything else. The echo of something sounded in the back of my mind, inching across my shoulder blades, like a barely-remembered melody or a forgotten and uncompleted task. I gave a confused shake of my head, as if that would make the whatever-it-was unstick.  
"I can't do this for you," I heard Martin say. "I'm sorry; I wish I could. It must be your choice, and your choice alone."  
"There's something..." I murmured, taking a step forward. I ran my fingers over the smooth surface. "Something I'm supposed to know..." The nebulous echo grew larger, drowning out the firm-turning-desperate order of my feet, my biceps, to stop what I was doing. A taste filled my mouth, like fine dirt, spicy and warm yet musky. A voice sounded in my ears, speaking... was that Dunmeris?

 _It'll be yours one day, baba. I know it will. I wish you wouldn't take it. I wish you didn't have to. But one day it'll be offered to you, by someone kind. Someone pure, who only wants to save your people. And you will take it. He's seen that you will. You'll do something wonderful with it, baba. But you must remember this - you don't need to take_ everything _about it. Only what it's needed for, and nothing else, if that's what you want. Oh, my sweet baba. I mourn for the day it comes to you, but I rejoice for what you'll do with it._

Ghostly arms surrounded me, and for a moment I felt cradled. A hand touched my cheek and I pulled my eyes away from the gem to look again at Martin, who held my face.  
"You know the truth," he said. "Claim your birthright, Dragonblood."  
Silently I took the Amulet of Kings, closing it around my neck, waiting for the snip of the latch breaking. It never came.  
I exhaled, my vision darkening at the edges.  
"Rowan?" Martin asked, suddenly sounding alarmed.  
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words fled.  
"Rowan!"

Then I was in his arms, with Martin shouting for the Blades to attend their new Ruler. Willing hands – the hands of my Blade siblings – lowered me to the floor so I could sit. Martin still held me, his eyes wide with worry, as he murmured and stroked my hair.  
"I don't understand. How is this possible?" I asked. "My mother was a mercenary. I grew up in Suran on Vvardenfell. The first time I ever _saw_ Kvatch was when it was on fire."  
"And your father?"  
"I... I don't know. She never mentioned him. I just assumed he was some _nchow_ _duns'wit_. We didn't talk about him."  
Martin held me that bit closer. "I'm sorry you had to find out who he was this way."  
"Wait... You think this means that Uriel was my-?" I choked on the word.  
"I'm sorry."  
"No... No, I- I can't do this," I told him. "I'm no Emperor."  
"Neither am I, dear heart. And yet it was expected of me."  
"You've had time! You've been practising!" I said, my voice pitchy again. "Marty, I can't"  
"Hush, hush. I admit this does throw things adrift. But we will recover. We always do." The smile he gave me was brittle.  
"What do you mean?" I asked, struggling upright. "Marty, what did you do?"  
He glanced down, letting his hand fall away from my head. "While you were gone, I sent a messenger to High Chancellor Ocato. He waits for us in the Imperial City."  
"Why? What does that sycophant have to do with anything?"  
"Chancellor Ocato is the head of the Elder Council," he reminded me, his tone chiding. "And the Council has been ruling in the absence of an Emperor. I didn't expect any objections from the Elder Council, but I felt I should defer to their authority and be approved by them as Emperor before we relit the Dragonfires."  
"They're expecting you," I said, realization dawning.  
"And now they get you."  
"Marty, no. I can't."  
His face creased in sympathy. "It can no longer be me. I won't pass the test." He reached out, resting his hand on the Amulet.  
I felt my breathing increase again as the realisation of what he was saying sunk in. My mind raced. He was right. They'd demand to see him wearing the Amulet. After all, as Jauffre had kept reminding us, it is no small matter to declare oneself Emperor. Then another amulet with a red jewel sprang into my speeding thoughts.  
"Wait... What if there was a way?" I asked. "Marty, you were going to make a terrific Emperor. You're kind and empathetic, thoughtful and reasonable. I'm... not."  
"I refute that... Your thoughtfulness and empathy are just different from mine. But I concede your point. I have had time to prepare myself, to learn and practice." He passed a hand over his face. "What is your plan?"  
"I came into possession of another amulet, one that bears a striking resemblance to the Amulet of Kings. You could wear that. How likely is it that Ocato and the other Council members have ever seen the Amulet of Kings up close?"  
"It could work..." he said. "Are you quite sure that you wish to renounce your title? I believe that with a little training you would be as much suited to the job as I."  
I bit my lip. I was sure, now, in the heat of panic and fear. But would I regret it once the Dragonfires were lit?

I untangled myself from him and stood, reaching down to help him up. "Meet me at the Wawnet Inn in a day and a half, and ask me again," I said quickly. Time was wasting, the barrier must be reestablished.  
"Where are you going?" he asked, concern written in his furrowed brow.  
"To get Anora's amulet from Chorrol."  
He nodded in understanding. "Captain Steffan will accompany you."  
"He will not," I told him indignantly. "He's going with you. And so are the rest of the Blades. For this to work, you have to remember that yours is the most precious blood on Nirn."  
"And yet what will we do if you're killed by bandits?"  
"May I remind you, _your Majesty_ , you have sent me thither and yon for the past few months, into the deepest pits of danger, and you didn't give a fig then!" At the sight of his downturned mouth, I relented – he _had_ cared, and he'd made it eminently clear. "I'll take the high road, along the Jerrals and down into Clovia. None but bears use that road."  
"But you must take _someone_ !"  
"Then I shall take Baurus!" My eyes flew wide as I realised my mistake. Martin's lips pressed into a thin line, and I heard Jena gasp. "I need take no one!" I rallied, pushing down the well of pain that threatened. I grabbed my pack, pulling it on and walking to the door. "While the power remains mine: Steffan, take as many Blades as can be spared from the Temple's defence, and protect Martin as you would befitting an Emperor." I turned back to look at Martin. "Meet me in Weye, a day and a half, and ask me again."  
I pulled open the door.  
"Xir." I glanced back to see Roliand walking forward. "I would ride with you, if I may. Just in case, you understand."  
I stared at him for a long moment, my heart still fierce thunder in my ears.  
"Very well. Come then. The Dragon awaits."


	2. Chapter 2

We rode along the mountain paths as I'd promised, the hooves of our horses clattering loudly as we rushed onwards. I was actually quite glad to have Roliand accompanying me; Horses are pack animals, so I let him take the lead, so I could think and only had to occasionally nudge Biar away from the cliff-face.  
In truth, I was still reeling from the development. My mother, Gemile, really had never mentioned my birth-father. Ulseth has been enough of a father-figure that the absence of my birth-father had never bothered me. And now to find out that I was a child of the Septims...

By the time we'd come down from the Colovian Highlands, I still hadn't decided what I wanted. The sun was setting over Battlehorn Castle as we thundered towards the gates. I practically threw myself off Biar, as Roliand reined-in in front of me.  
"Greetings m'lud," Niels called. "Who've you got there, then?"  
"Sorry Niels," I called back, as Hjalti, his dog, ran expectantly over for pats and scritches. "I can't stop to explain right now." I gave Hjalti a short ruffle on his head. "I need to pick something up, and then I'll be on my way again. Roliand, with me." So saying I paced to the door.  
We entered the main hall, and I caught one of my men-at-arms coming down the stairs.  
"Ah, Yves. Would you mind escorting my friend here to the kitchen? Roliand, grab us something that will travel well. I'll meet you back here when I've grabbed what I need."  
Yves nodded and began to walk away, but Roliand hesitated.  
"Are you sure I shouldn't go with you, xir?" he asked.  
"This is my home, Roliand. I'll be fine. I also haven't eaten for..." I stopped. "What day is it?"  
"Turdas, m'lud," Yves supplied.  
"Right. And the battle at Bruma was..."  
"Sundas, xir."  
I stared. "Talos preserve... I haven't eaten for two days. And I am hungry. So please, Roliand, get me something to eat? If our mission is not successful, I don't want to die on an empty stomach."  
The long months at Cloud Ruler had schooled me in the expressions of my fellow Blades. Though to anyone else, Roliand's expression was stoic, the tiny setting of his eyes, and the thinness of his lips told me he was deeply unimpressed by the comment.  
"Well I don't," I said defensively.  
"As my commander wishes," he said, snapping around to follow Yves, who was watching with something between amusement and concern.  
With only a moment to shake my head, I pounded up the stairs to the gallery where my prizes and trophies were on display. I considered some of the weapons; it might be useful to have a back-up sword for when the hordes of daedra sucked the magic from my main weapon. I strapped Thornblade to my hip, opposite the Day Ruiner II, and moved to pick up Arnora's amulet. I pulled the Amulet of Kings from under my armour and compared the two. As I'd hoped, they were nearly identical. Anora's amulet was only missing the coloured gems from around the main jewel's setting. As long as no one looked too closely, we could pull this off. I bit my lip. If that was what I wanted... What  _ did _ I want?   
I closed my eyes and took a breath. What I wanted was to close the gates. What I wanted was for Mehrunes Dagon to stop terrorizing Nirn. Why did I have to make this choice before the Fires were lit? I started back down the stairs, wrapping a piece of cloth around Arnora's amulet. I could just go now. Take Roliand, sneak into the Temple, get the job done before anyone was the wiser. Deal with the council after everything was sorted.  
The more I thought about it, the better I liked the plan.

"Xir, did you get what you needed?" Roliand asked as I came down the stairs.  
"Yes..."  
"What is it xir?" Roliand frowned at my tone, his fingers twitching to the hilt at his side. Yves stood to one side, so I drew Roliand away to speak in hushed tones under the stuffed Daedroth.  
"How do you feel about... bypassing Martin's instructions?"  
"I'm not sure I follow xir..."  
I bowed my head momentarily, then brought it up, giving him a sad, thought heartfelt smile. I clapped him on the shoulder. "Roliand, you – and all the blades – have been great companions, these past few months. I cannot fault your bravery and loyalty to the Ruby Throne."  
"Xir...?"  
"But I must ask you to go against everything you have been taught." I held out Arnora's wrapped Amulet. "Take this. Wait for me at the Wayshrine of Dibella, on the banks of Lake Rumare near Fort Virtue. If I haven't come to you by evening, go to Weye and give this amulet to Martin."  
He searched my face, and I watched as realisation dawned. "Xir... You're going into the city alone?" He shook his head. "No... No, I cannot allow that-"  
"And I cannot allow any more blood to be shed for me," I told him. "Too many have died in my stead. If I have not come to you by the evening, then you must go to Martin. Tell him of this conversation, and tell him this also: Tamriel needs a ruler. Whether I lit the Dragonfires or not, someone must be there to lead our people into the coming days." I pulled back. "Now get some rest, you leave at first light. The men here will find you a bed-" I raised my hand to beckon Yves over, but Roliand stopped me.  
"What of you, xir?"  
"I ride tonight."  
"Xir!" he cried, outraged. "No!"  
I fixed him with a cool look. "It must be done, Roliand. And it must be done soon. I can't dally." I walked away, looking over at Yves. The Battlehorn man nodded. "Get some sleep Roliand. I fear you'll need it."  
"Your Majesty, no-!" Roliand cut off with a whump.   
"M'lud has spoken," I heard Yves say, as I slipped out into the on-coming darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Briar lifted his head from a bucket of feed, snorting at me as if to ask me what I thought I was doing. Next to him, Jauffre's chestnut mare shook her head.  
"I know, lovelies," I told them, stroking Briar's neck. The chestnut mare nudged my shoulder. "I know, but what else am I supposed to do?" I pressed my face into Briar's mane for a moment, taking a steadying breath, filled with horse-smell, then lifted Briar's reins, leading him out into the courtyard. The blacksmith was already at his dinner, so no one but the birds and the chestnut mare watched me leave.

The roads were dark and deserted as I rode under Masser and Secunda's watchful gaze. Pockets of the countryside glowed with Oblivion's red light, each fresh opening gate stirring something within me. Voices hummed inside my mind, as I raced under the trees of the Great Forest, too quiet to really be heard. I thought I heard sweet high laughter, the rumble of several male voices, felt the approval of a hundred ancestors and knew I wasn't alone. 

On the shores of Lake Rumare I stopped, leaving Briar loosely tethered at the wayshrine under Dibella's watchful care. Briar wickered at me.  
"You've been a good horse," I told him. "The best I could have asked for. Stay here, be safe. I'll come back for you if I can." I draped my cloak over his back and walked away. He let out a loud whinny, taking a few steps towards me. I held out a hand, and he stopped. With that, I waded into the lake and swam to the opposite shore.


	4. Chapter 4

The Waterfront was deserted. Eerily so. Overhead the clouds drew in, crackling and boiling with red lighting. My pulse quickened, the mutterings in my head urged me forward.  
_ The covenant must be renewed. Let our sacrifice be not for naught. Light the flames. Close shut the gates.  
_

Before I knew it, I was running. Daedra swarmed down the path to meet me. Clanfears screeched, daedroth roared. I yelled out my own challenge, as blade met claw. Behind me, there was a yell. My blood sang in my veins, a song that was not truly my own, and I turned to meet this new foe... Instead, I saw the imperial guard beating back those daedra I had not seen, not managed to slay, who would have slain me from behind. I stopped, breathing hard, as I waited for them to catch up.  
"What are you doing, citizen?" the captain asked. "This area is dangerous. You should return to your home."  
"Servatius Quintilius, isn't it?" I asked.  
"Yes... Say, you're the Hero of Kvatch, right?"  
"Aye, Captain Quintilius. I have been ordered by the new Emperor-in-waiting to ensure the coast is clear before he comes to relight the Dragon Fires."  
Quintilius drew back. "A... A new Emperor?" He looked around at his fellows. "News has reached us of some chap from Bruma... but I scarcely believed it."  
"Well, you better believe it. He's coming, and the way must be made clear!"  
From inside my head, there was a tut. Someone else laughed. I felt like the Septims were arguing the relative merits of lying to the Imperial Guard. The Imperial Guard, for their part, whispered amongst themselves over my revelation.  
I turned to go – I had work to do, after all – but Quintilius caught my arm.   
"A moment, Hero." He turned back to his troop. They quieted, some nodding as his gaze swept over them. He lifted his sword.  
"For the Emperor! For the Hero of Kvatch!" he called, and his troop took up the call. Quintilius turned back to me.  
"We have your back Hero," he said. "Lead the way."  
My gut twisted. "You don't have to do this," I told him. "There is no order."  
"You misunderstand, Hero. There is always an order – the highest Order – 'to preserve the peace and rule of law in the Empire'." I studied his face for a moment then nodded my thanks, taking a moment to fix in my mind these brave men and women.  
"Very well." I raised the Day Ruiner, the green glass shimmering ethereally in the red light of Oblivion. "For Tamriel!" I yelled, charging up the slope to where the gates to the Temple district hung open, forced by the claws of Daedra.

The sky roiled overhead. Red lighting slashed the sky, as heavy rain and hail beat about the shoulders of mortal and daedra alike. I led Quintilius' troops, running head-first into the swarms of the Enemy, as the Captain called out orders behind me. Two other captains joined us – I know this only because I heard new voices calling orders to flank me – but I paid them little heed. My eyes were only on the Temple ahead. My chest burned with need, the amulet under my armour pulsing with the beat of my heart. My blood sang, calling me forwards. Voices urged me on.   
Claws slashed at me, making deep gouges in my armour. I knew I was bleeding, but adrenalin urged me on. I could not stop and heal myself, nor take a potion. The endless night dragged on, but I had no time. At some point, the Shield of The Nine became too heavy, so I cast it aside. My feet dragged, wading through the mud and bodies.   


And then! A gap! I screamed my defiance, the Amulet humming against my breast, as I drew the last of my strength, and ran full-tilt into the door of the Temple. I crashed through, kicking it closed behind me, then stood, panting in the sudden silence. My knees buckled. I fell to all fours, cursing my mortal weakness. Was I really so injured?  
"Akatosh!" I cried. "Talos! Don't let me have come so far, just to fail now!"  
A soft light suffused the air. I felt love and warmth surround me, tugging me to the altar at the centre of the Temple. Staggering to my feet, I let it guide me over, to crash down again, against the altar.   
"What do I do?" I asked, my vision fading in and out. "What am I supposed to do?"  
_ Light it! _ chimed a hundred voices, young and old, male and female, a chorus surrounding me.  _ Dagon comes! Light it now! _ Hands guided mine, as I leant against the altar. My blood welled from a dozen cuts, trickling into the basin. I pulled out the Amulet from under my armour, raising a magical fire in one hand, and the Amulet of Kings in the other.

"I am Rowan, child of Gemile and Uriel!" I called. A multitude of spectral voices joined mine. "I am Chosen of Akatosh! The Blood of Dragons flows in my veins! I will not suffer to see my world over-run. Spawn of Dagon, I cast thee out!" Thus saying, I brought my flaming hand down, slapping it into the middle of the altar. For a moment nothing happened, and I panicked, wondering if I'd somehow been wrong. Then the flame welled up, a bright white-edged with blue. There was a crack, like the ground and the sky together were being riven. The top of the temple shattered and I crouched down as the pieces of masonry littered the ground around me. A booming laugh sounded. My heart squeezed. I'd failed after all. A red face loomed above me, and I stood to greet it, wreathed in that while flame. We considered each other for a long moment, Dagon and I. My anger grew; his laughter abated. The flame grew larger.

A voice that was not quite my voice said, "Your presence will not be tolerated here." I brought my arms in front of me, unleashing a gout of flame. Dagon screamed. The air was rent once more by a pure, burning light... and then silence. The fire slipped from my body, my muscles seizing and tightening. I threw back my head with the last of my strength and screamed out my victory. Sunlight crept over the edge of the houses, filtering through those stained-glass windows that remained. Birds sang and twittered. From without I could hear the joyous cries of the Imperial Watch. 

The dawn was breaking, and my task was complete. I smiled.

"Martin," I whispered. "We did it. I will not see you again in this life, my friend, and I shall miss you. But Tamriel is yours. Rule her well. Be the man whom destiny smiled her favour upon. I go now to be with my kin and our friends above. Good luck, dear priest." I sighed. My eyes flickered closed, and I slept.


End file.
